The 197th Hunger Games
by Flying-Griffins
Summary: The 197th Hunger Games was a stepping stone for better things, but that didn't mean he had to hold anything back. Now, if the forsaken Districts would just provide him with some decent Tributes… But, remember, nothing ever goes according to plan.
1. Intro

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Hunger Games; the series belongs to the lovely Suzanne Collins.

* * *

**The 197****th**** Hunger Games**

**Prologue**

Shoving black and electric blue curls back from his face, Dekkus Roman grabbed the always warm mug that was right beside his right hand. The mug was kept constantly full by an assistant who was most attentive in her singular duty. The mug warmed his hand as he lifted it to his mouth and took a long swallow. Coffee. He drank enough of the stuff that it must have been vying for water as the majority liquid in his body. It kept him going on endless days like this one. Of course, the past few weeks had been endless days, so he was certain he was subsisting only because of the high levels of caffeine in his bloodstream.

Dekkus groaned and set the mug down. Construction had slowed in the northern part of his arena, something about the support beams not being shipped on time. On top of that setback, he had received word that his more biologically-based designs were showing certain flaws. That was a true blow since those were the shining finish to his design, but hopefully the flaws could be worked into the game or be worked out by the time the Games began. And now, according to the media coordinator, there were issues with the newest prototype camera that was supposed to be able to get even better night shots.

Being the Head Gamemaker wasn't as easy as it should've been.

"Sir?"

"Hmm?" Dekkus turned and saw Madeline standing by his elbow, a datapad clutched in her periwinkle hands. She only came up to his chest when he was standing and had the most adorable alterations that included big white rabbit ears and a fluffy puff of a bunny tail that poked out of her pink mini skirt. She was the cutest intern at the Game Central, and Dekkus had demanded her as one of his assistants the moment he had become the Head Gamemaker. "Oh, are those the reports on the—"

"Yes, sir," she said, handing him the datapad, "Julian sent them just now. The materials you wanted came in, and they've started in on the detail work for the Park."

A glance at the datapad told him that it was true, and one more piece of his masterpiece was sliding into place. This was going to be an Arena that people would be talking about for years. Dekkus grinned. "Thank you, dearling. You're more efficient than I could ever hope for."

Madeline smiled and nodded her head, a coquettish, pale pink curl bouncing against her cheek. "Happy to help."

As he watched her leave his office, Dekkus thought about how he was going to make her enjoy the night when he finally asked her to come over to his apartment, how she'd scream with pleasure. He was waiting for the perfect moment, a weekend when his wife was at a spa retreat and the kids were visiting relatives. He'd take Madeline home and see just how supple and soft that velveteen body of hers was, and it wasn't like she was going to say no. Being connected with a Head Gamemaker got you places, and he knew that she had her eye on being a Gamemaker herself one day. Every opportunistic employee here did, and if she could use her body to get to that position, she'd do it. Dekkus was going to make sure she earned his recommendation, though.

He leaned back in his plush chair, his golden hourglass eyes trained on the hologram that rose from the table in front of him. His Arena was beautiful, a true work of art that would be appreciated by the masses, and perhaps it was spectacular enough to secure his place in the running to be the Head Gamemaker for the Bicentennial Hunger Games that were going to be held in three years. The 197th Hunger Games might be just a stepping stone for better things, but that didn't mean he had to hold anything back.

Now, if the forsaken Districts would just provide him with some semi-decent Tributes…


	2. Tribute List

**Disclaimer:** Still do not own The Hunger Games!

Wow, I was not expecting that kind of response, but it was AWESOME! You are all fantastic! I'm positively ecstatic over the amount of Tributes that was submitted, and I had a very difficult time narrowing down the field and choosing. I truly appreciate everyone who took the time to write up a character app, and I wish there was a way to fit them all in. However, even if your character wasn't selected, I hope that you'll still read along; there are going to be a few shifts and twists, and who knows, you might really like it. ^_^

* * *

**OFFICIAL TRIBUTE LIST **

[[as it was placed on the desk of Dekkus Roman at the end of Reaping Day]]

**DISTRICT 1**

1) Tarquin Fade [M] [15]

2) Tourmaline Collier [F] [16]

**DISTRICT 2**

1) Hardcourt Hammon [M] [14]

2) Siena Mahone [F] [17]

**DISTRICT 3**

1) Celebration Jones [M] [17]

2) Ezra Noman [F] [14]

**DISTRICT 4**

1) Anchor Havelock [M] [16]

2) Coral Sheems [F] [15]

**DISTRICT 5**

1) Mark Vires [M] [14]

2) Evangeline Trent [F] [17]

**DISTRICT 6**

1) Rioro Rinzen [M] [14]

2) Kaylee Pierce [F] [15]

**DISTRICT 7**

1) Felix Ambrosia [M] [15]

2) Melina Kelley [F] [14]

**DISTRICT 8**

1) Gavin Ross [M] [16]

2) Rosalyn Gambini [F] [17]

**DISTRICT 9**

1) Aric Falconer [M] [17]

2) Annalee Lindane [F] [16]

**DISTRICT 10**

1) Zarcius Triton [M] [16]

2) Evaline Redes [F] [16]

**DISTRICT 11**

1) James Austin Mocking [M] [17]

2) Caper Rowan [F] [14]

**DISTRICT 12**

1) Emmanuel Vaughn [M] [18]

2) Michelle Liang [F] [12]

* * *

Again, thank you everyone for your wonderful submissions! I hope that this is going to be an exciting Hunger Games that even people who don't have Tributes in the story can enjoy. The first Reaping should be up very soon!


	3. Reaping Day: District 1

Disclaimer: ALAS! I still don't own The Hunger Games! *begins to plot*

A/N: And here we go! District 1's Reaping Day, gotta love the Careers. ;)

* * *

**The 197****th**** Hunger Games**

Reaping Day: District 1

**Tourmaline Collier (Age 16)**

The 197th Hunger Games. It was supposed to be grand. It was supposed to be amazing. Well, not as amazing as a Quarter Quell but still. There had been some unusual demands from the Capital to District 1, and rumors were swirling. Something elaborate was happening, and the Careers vying for positions as tributes were salivating to be a part of it.

Tory didn't care about the rumors. Right now, she was packing a small, dull brown duffel bag with a change of clothes, part of her brain focused on the task in front of her, part of it on the murmurs downstairs. Her parents were worried, which she appreciated, but it was unnecessary. Yes, she planned on being the tribute this year, but she would be fine. She'd told them so several times.

Leaving her duffel on the bed, Tory headed to her window and shoved it open, frowning as it jammed for a moment halfway up, pealing more paint off the sill. Her dad had been promising to fix it since she was thirteen, but that had never happened. Well, if all went according to plan, she wouldn't have to worry about this window next year.

Tory paused a moment to twist her dark brown hair up in a bun, securing it with a leather tie, then leaped nimbly over the window, internally blessing her gymnastic abilities as she did every time she used this window as a door. Her parents wouldn't be happy about her leaving the house on Reaping Day without them, but Tory had important things to do before the celebrations started.

The roof of her house was black shingle, and a few slipped as she carefully stepped down the roof toward the edge. She paused for a moment, evaluating the ground. As many times as she did this, she could never trust that it would be the same, that someone wouldn't have left an idle tool there or that a recent storm hadn't torn up the ground. But it was fun, and she lowered herself off the roof and then once she was hanging, let herself fall the last few feet. She was free.

Tory walked past several houses all around the same moderately large size as hers, most of them quiet as their residents slept in on the holiday. A few had the smells of feast-cooking coming from them. District 1 held elaborate celebrations on Reaping Day, unlike some of the lower districts, and it included things like a luncheon feast at home, an afternoon parade, and then a celebratory Reaping. Although there was an edge of nervousness to everything done, and a lot of the traditional foods had darker connotations to what they stood for, it was still a holiday off from work.

For Tory, it was the one day a year that she didn't spend training.

Since her dad did pretty well for the family as a silversmith and her mom was one of the premier designers in the district, Tory's house wasn't too far from the Victors' Village, where Karl and Selena lived. Karl had won the Games a few years back, and so was someone Tory respected a lot and enjoyed flirting with sometimes. Although it was more trouble than it was worth now, considering he was considered the catch of the year by every girl in the district. Still, since she might just see him and today was a tribute day, Tory had worn one of her lower cut shirts, in a deep purple that contrasted her light gold-brown eyes nicely.

Her purpose for visiting the Victors' Village had more to do with his sister, however. Sel was a two years younger than Karl, and one of Tory's main competitors at the reaping selection since they were both the same age. Tory was hoping to make a deal with her. As a gymnastics specialist, Tory often had accidents, and to be whole and able at a reaping when she was sixteen was too good of an opportunity to pass up. Tory had to get in as a tribute this year.

When she reached the gate that led into Victors' Village, she keyed in the passcode that Careers enjoyed the privilege of having so that they could visit and learn from the experts. That wasn't what Sel always used it for, but no Career stuck to all the rules. If they did, they wouldn't be a Career.

The dark iron gates slowly swung open, groaning slightly, and Tory passed through the stone arch that framed the gateway. The whole area was surrounded by a stone wall, and honestly, Tory could have climbed it, but there was no reason to with a passcode. She had done it when she was younger, and being spotted in the act had led to her whole life being changed. It had meant a life in training for fighting rather than designing or working in some other job in the silver industry that her parents worked in.

The difference between the Victors' houses and the rest of the district houses was immediately apparent. Stone and brick replaced wood for walls, slate and tile replaced shingles and wood for roofing. The glass in the windows was flawless, and the flowerbeds were filled with rare flowers that actually were given enough attention to survive. Tory couldn't wait to have one of these places, although she thought she might have someone else take care of her flowerbeds. Nature wasn't exactly her thing, though she'd had to learn about it in order to earn her place as a Career.

Sel's house was one of the stone ones, and Tory made quick work of the decorative latticework of ivy that went right up the side of the house to Sel's room. Sel had chosen this room on purpose, and it was for the same reason that Karl had taken the other room to adjoin the ivy. She was just pushing the window open when Sel suddenly yanked it the rest of the way open.

"Too excited to sleep?" Sel asked, a bright grin on her face as she stepped back to let Tory in. Sel was tall and muscular, and a lethal killer with a dagger. Sel turned away from the window and went back to brushing her short blonde hair.

Tory shrugged. "Yeah, and I wanted to talk to you."

Sel flickered a glance in Tory's direction. The two might be 'friends,' in the general sense of the word, but they'd been raised Careers, and Careers didn't trust anybody. Plus, you never knew who might kill a family member, or if you might die. Best not to get to close to anyone. "Yeah?" she said, now sorting through a pile of cloths on her bed.

"Well, I had a proposition," Tory said, "And just hear me out before you say anything." Sel looked at her again, but nodded for her to continue. Tory went and sat on the bed next to the clothes. "Help me be the tribute this year by not volunteering. If I win this year, and you know I probably can, then you know for sure I'll be a mentor next year." The previous year's winner, if there was one, was always included as a mentor the following year. "I can favor you when it comes to gifts."

Sel turned to look at her, her eyes narrowed in thought. "Why shouldn't we switch it around though?" she asked. "Why should you be the one to go this year? I could do the same for you next year."

"Well, you'll have the advantage of being a year older." Tory had to make this look like a good deal for Sel. "I would do it too, except with all my gymnastics and stuff, I'm afraid of having an accident too close to the reaping. I'm not afraid of competing with Ember though. She's a year younger than us, and they'll choose you over her if it comes down to you both volunteering. You're pretty much guaranteed."

Sel eyed her for a long moment, and then that bright smile she was so famous for returned to her face. They would love her when she had her turn in the arena. "All right, but only because I absolutely can't wait to see you demolish them all in the Games." Both girls grinned broadly at each other.

Tory's parents didn't even bother to scold her when she returned to the house; they were way too tired of it to bother anymore. They would try to stop her if they caught her in the act of leaving, which was why Tory still used the window, but once she was back they just usually ignored the lack of courtesy.

Tory's mother pursed her lips as she eyed Tory.

"You're sweaty, your hair is unruly, and you're dressed in entirely improper clothes," her mother said, shaking her head at the latest fixes Tory had made to her clothing. "Go put on proper reaping wear. Something nice and modest. What were you doing, seeing a boy?" A frown line on her mother's forehead was added to the pursed lips at this thought.

Tory laughed. "Something like that," she said, although she hadn't actually seen Karl. She had put on the shirt for him though, which was what her mother really wanted to know. Before her mother could lecture her about taste and modesty, Tory ran up the stairs to find a dress, which was what her mother really wanted. Her mother wanted her to meet and attract a potential husband, yes, but only in the 'proper' way. Tory personally had other ideas. As a Career, she had grown up spending a lot more time with guys than most girls did, and, well…things just happened easily. Tory wasn't ashamed of it, but her mother would be if she knew. So for her sake, Tory pretended. Sometimes.

Most of the day passed by in a blur for Tory; she was focused on the end of the day, and it made her impatient and unable to participate in the polite conversation that her mother and father indulged in. Luckily, she was able to hang out with the Career set at the parade where they was an understanding of each other's weird moods.

Tory eyed the guys, wondering which one she would be competing with. Usually if a guy was younger than fifteen in District 1, there was no getting in; it just wouldn't work. There was a sixteen-year-old this year and a fifteen-year-old who met that general age acknowledgement. Tory didn't really care much about either of them. The sixteen-year-old, Halvix, was a brute and would be a pain to kill, but she could handle him. Tarquin, the fifteen-year-old, was deceptively weak and might be annoying simply because others might misjudge his strength. She'd seen him practice though, and he could do some damage with knives. Luckily she'd had some sparring session with Sel when it came to pointy things of the short variety, so she could probably handle him.

Tory shrugged, her thoughts returning to the actual reaping. As long as she was a tribute, she would be content. For now.

**Tarquin Fade (Age 15)**

Tarquin watched the parade of past winners, dignitaries, and the visiting escort, Marcus, in front of him. Then he turned to look at Rana, his best friend. Pretty much his only friend ever since Kane had broken up with him, unless you counted Mom. But with Rana as a friend, you really didn't need many other friends. Okay, boyfriend back would be nice, but Rana was awesome. And currently annoyed that they were hanging out with the Careers.

"They're mean and most of them don't even like you," she said, peaking around him to eye the particularly vicious-looking Halvix.

Tarquin laughed a little. "Yeah, well, I'm supposed to be like them."

"But you're not."

"But I have to be if I'm going to convince them to pick me over Halvix," Tarquin said, shaking his head as a fly buzzed near. His spiked brown hair stayed nicely in place, the gel's hold on it solid; it really was entirely practical for outdoor stuff. He might just have to keep it a little longer than he kept most of his usual hairstyles.

"Not have to be, just pretend to be," Rana replied in her usual glib manner. She smiled at him, her dark brown eyes meeting his green ones. "So when we're done pretending, let's go buy some cheesebread from Carol." Rana adored cheesebread and would use any excuse to get at it.

But Tarquin groaned. "My mom and grandma already tried to stuff me with food today. Are you trying to kill me?"

Rana poked at his ribcage playfully. "You could use a little more food. Now come on, you've done enough hanging out with them." Before Tarquin could protest anymore, Rana had grabbed his hand and was dragging him off toward the cheesebread. But they hadn't gone more than a few feet when Tarquin accidentally yanked her to a stop, his subconscious causing him to do it before his conscious mind realized what he was doing.

"What…" Rana started to say, turning around, but when she caught sight of who Tarquin was looking at, she was quiet.

"Tarquin," the dark-haired, blue-eyed, slender young man in front of him said in a quiet, polite voice.

"Kane," Tarquin replied uncomfortably. They had sort of avoided each other ever since they'd had the big fight and the following break-up.

Kane hesitated as if trying to figure out what to say, then finally nodded his head. "Good luck," he said, before hurrying off. Tarquin wasn't given a chance to say anything in reply, and he turned to look at Rana blankly.

Rana shrugged. "Don't ask me," she said. Her tone was bland, but her face was sympathetic. She tugged at Tarquin's hand, but a little more gently this time. He followed her as she led the way, and she gave him an encouraging smile. "Kane wished you good luck," she said.

Tarquin nodded, but if Rana wanted him to be cheery, they were going to have to talk about something else besides Kane. He'd mostly managed to move on, but there was still some heartache there. Easier to forget the ache when he wasn't thinking about it. "Look," he said, nodding to the side of the road. "There's your cheesebread."

Rana gave him one last look then gleefully went to the stall. According to tradition, Tarquin bought a mug of cider from the stall next door. Good parade food, and even if he couldn't fit much cheesebread in his stomach, liquid would go down a little easier.

They watched the parade, occasionally chatting about some of the previous winners, but Tarquin's mind was on other things. He was still trying to decide if he should try for the Reaping tonight. In all likelihood, Halvix would win out since he was older, but there was a possibility that Halvix would want to wait a year. Tarquin wasn't sure he wanted to. He felt ready now, and waiting another year would just feel like putting off the end-goal, something that he'd been preparing for so long that he was afraid he'd plateau if he waited much longer.

So as he and Rana made their way to the reaping to meet up with their families, his mind was a little spaced out, and he was slightly quieter than usual. Still, he perked up a bit as they started to approach the crowd; Reaping Days were always exciting, and there was no need for him to be down when really, whatever the outcome was Tarquin would be fine with it. If he wasn't picked this year than he definitely would be next year.

"Tarquin," his mother, her dark hair in a tidy bun, approached him with a wide smile. But he didn't miss the worry lining her face. She was always afraid during a Reaping, always afraid for him even though she knew he was a Career. But he understood; as she'd said many times, it was just a mother's worry.

"Hey, Mom," he said, giving her a quick hug. He smiled behind her at his Gran, who was gazing off into the sky. "Hey Gran." She gave him a vacant smile before returning her gaze to a flock of birds now passing through the sky.

Rana waved her family over when she saw them, then squeezed his hand and nodded to the front. "The Careers are lined up," she said. The Careers lined up in the front of the crowd, obviously more than ready for their chance as tributes, but they stood silent and watchful while the rest of the crowd buzzed in anticipation of the Reaping. In District 1, both sexes and all ages of tributes were allowed to mingle together during the reaping; there were no roped off areas because everyone already knew who was going to be in the Games. Some districts dreaded the Reapings, but not here. Here it was a celebration, a sending off of heroes with a hope of earning glory and luxurious rewards for all.

Tarquin ran his eyes over the dignitaries, taking more time with the ones who'd be important to him if he was a tribute this year. There was Marcus, their escort from the Capitol for several years now; must have found favor in the Capitol. He loved his District and they didn't despise him, which was saying a lot, considering all his affected Capitol-isms. Jem was also there as this year's mentor since no one from District 1 had won last year. Jem was twenty-five, handsome, and had killed off his opponents in record time in the arena. Definitely important to be his favorite, and it was highly unlikely that Tarquin would be since Jem was notorious for being a womanizer.

The mayor finally got up to speak, and Rana and Tarquin both glanced at each other, grinning. They'd made a joke once that the mayor seemed to say the same things every year, and so twice they had listened carefully to what he said and realized it really was the exact same speech with just a few adjustments made. It had sent them into giggles for quite a few years, and now it was just an old joke that made both of them smile. But it also meant Tarquin didn't really have to bother listening.

He glanced over at his mom, wondering what she was thinking right now; she seemed more upset than she usually did at a reaping. She was one of the few people in their district who probably didn't really enjoy reaping day. Gran was actually looking at the mayor, but she was about as zoned out as Tarquin was. Poor Gran, she'd heard it many more times than he had.

"Marcus is up," Rana whispered tensely, her eyes trained on the stage as she stood on tiptoes to get a good look at the silver and glass reaping ball that been created just for this day.

Tarquin's attention immediately went back to the stage. Marcus always started with the guys, probably because he thought girls having to go to the Games was more dramatic and the best way to conclude the Reaping show.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Marcus said, his voice booming and deep, a surprise coming out of such a small and rotund man. He beamed as his hand caught a slip of paper. "I give you your first tribute…Joseph Fell!" There was a murmur for a second, but Tarquin was determined to step up before Halvix thought that he was chickening out.

"I volunteer in his place!" Tarquin shouted, pressing through the crowd. Heads turned to look and Tarquin met some surprised stares; after all, Careers were usually in the front. But they recognized who he was, and they quickly made way to let him through.

Marcus nodded briefly and gestured for Tarquin to join him on the stage as he pulled out a silver pocket watch, probably engraved right here in District 1. He pocket watch was for the ten seconds required to give another person a chance to step forward. If no one else volunteered in that time, Tarquin was officially the tribute.

Tarquin felt a little weird with everyone staring at him as he walked up the steps to the stage, but it also felt good to finally be here where he belonged. He leaned forward and quickly scrawled his name and age on the list that had been placed on the podium, and a secretary stepped up next to him to mark out Joseph's name, whoever that kid was. If someone else volunteered their name and age would also be written, and the secretary would mark out the one who was younger. It was just the way things worked in District 1. Tarquin glanced to the front of the crowd and met Halvix's eyes, waiting to see if he would say anything.

But no, apparently he wasn't going to, because the ten seconds were up. The mayor was calling time, and a polite applause went up from the crowd. Less than normal, but Tarquin wasn't surprised; his sexuality didn't exactly make him the most well-liked person in the macho District. But he was officially the male tribute for District 1 this year, and he was sure his mother, Gran, and Rana could all see his smile even where they were in the crowd.

The girls were next. Tarquin glanced across the Careers. There were two probable girls for this year: Tourmaline and Selena. He didn't like them much; they tended to just hang out with each other, and they were, of course, competition for him. He wondered how their friendship was fairing under the restriction of only one female tribute.

"Rana Goldberg." Tarquin's head snapped toward Rana, and could see her eyes wide as his heart skipped a beat, momentarily forgetting that of course she would be safe. But she was, because it didn't take more than a few seconds for Tory to speak up.

**Tourmaline Collier**

Tory didn't even hear who the girl was, because as soon as Marcus had closed his mouth she was in her element. She glanced at Sel to confirm their earlier deal, and Sel nodded. Tory tossed a triumphant glance at Ember, the redhead girl who at a year younger was probably dying to enter the Games, before calling out her willingness to volunteer. The tributes were going down this year, and a new life was waiting for Tory.

She climbed to the stage, signing her name before joining Tarquin, and the two glanced at each other, sizing up their opponent. Let the Games begin, Tory thought wryly.


End file.
